


The Michael Problem

by Cinaed



Category: South Park
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emotional Constipation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friendship/Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks after the events of "Tweek x Craig," Craig's friend Michael comes to visit and things get a little complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Michael Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Chrissy, who is probably laughing at me for trying to write a humorous fic and then accidentally getting feelings for these characters and the show. 
> 
> Warnings for show-appropriate humor and Cartman.

It was a Friday, which meant the school hallways turned into a figurative bloodbath as soon as the final bell rang. Craig grabbed a kindergartner who’d panicked and was fighting against the crowd. He turned her in the right direction, struggling to keep his friends in view.

She thanked him with a kick to his shin and a glare before she disappeared into the mad rush of kids, her ponytail managing to smack him in the arm as a third and final fuck you as she ducked under someone’s elbow and vanished from sight.

“Hey, are you guys coming to my house tomorrow?” Token asked, shouting to be heard as Craig limped grimly towards the exit. “My mom got me a new flat-screen, so I’m doing a Star Wars marathon.” 

“No way, man, I need to beat this boss,” Tweek said, shaking his head wildly and blinking hard as they stepped outside into the sunlight. Craig recognized the look. Tweek had bought the new Tales game the weekend before, spending some of the money his dad kept throwing at him as a sort of weird gay allowance, and had been fixated on it ever since.

Craig didn’t mind. It was fun to watch Tweek get worked up over the game’s shitty camera angles, his face all red and scrunched up as he yelled at the TV. Sometimes he wished that Tweek would finish Zestiria so they could play some two-player games together, but he wasn’t going to admit it. Clyde and Token would just get all mock-concerned and reassure him that he wasn’t going to lose his boyfriend to a video game.

Heat crept into his face. It had been two weeks since he and Tweek had started fake dating, and it was still weird. And weird in how _not_ weird it was, holding Tweek's hand whenever they walked places and hanging out nearly all the time, even more than they had before. Plus, he was still a little pissed that Clyde and Token kept claiming that they'd known he and Tweek were a couple for like a million years, because that was total bullshit.

He saw Token looking at him. Shrugging, he said, “Can’t. Michael's visiting from Denver and we're going to hang out.”

“Whoa, not cool, Craig,” Cartman said, appearing as though someone had summoned him from hell to ruin Craig’s day. The other three losers were with him, of course. Cartman glared, and Craig automatically glared back, though he didn't know what Cartman's problem was today. Tweek yelped and ducked as Cartman waved at him, nearly hitting him in the face. “I figured you'd be a shitty boyfriend because you're an asshole, but seriously, dude, Tweek’s standing right there.”

Craig blinked. He exchanged a confused look with Tweek. “So?”

“Yeah, man, that’s really not cool.” Great, now Stan was scowling, looking ready to launch into some dumb speech. Craig's day was just getting better. Kyle folded his arms against his chest and Kenny nodded and mumbled his agreement as Stan kept talking. “Tweek has feelings too, you know.”

Craig had a couple feelings right now. Mostly that he was missing something, but there was some annoyance and confusion thrown in there too. He looked at Token and saw that he was frowning and shaking his head, looking weirdly disappointed. Even Clyde was staring at him like he was being stupid.

“What the hell,” Craig said flatly. He looked at Tweek again, who looked just as lost. He realized that there were bunch of kids just standing there, watching them. It felt like a hundred eyes were on him, just like when he and Tweek had staged their fake breakup. When he looked around, he spotted the Asian girls staring at him, their faces full of outrage.

“What the hell,” he said again, a little louder. “Why does Tweek care if I’m--” Then he remembered. Michael had been the name of the home-wrecker Tweek had made up. He groaned. “Oh, come on, dudes. It’s not the same Michael.”

As soon as the words left Craig's mouth, Tweek turned bright red and stared down at the ground, laughing his high, nervous laugh and tugging at his hair. “Oh man,” he muttered. “Oh man, oh man....”

Embarrassment made Craig's face even hotter until he was surprised he didn't spontaneously combust. Now he wanted to kick something. Well, kick something or magically turn back time so that he could tell Tweek to not make up all that bullshit about him being a manipulative cheater.

“Okay, Craig,” Token said, but he was still frowning.

Craig got even more annoyed, seeing Token doubt him, his friend's usual cheerful look gone as he glanced between Craig and Tweek. No one had really said anything after they had gotten “back together,” but every once in a while Craig caught a few of the girls giving him dirty looks, especially Wendy. Damn it, he was seriously never going to get a girlfriend. He'd have to move to Hawaii or Iceland, somewhere no one knew him, to get a date.

Hating himself a little for pretending there was a second Michael but wanting to get that look off Token and Clyde's faces, he said, “Come on, guys. This is Michael from soccer camp, the one I went to after second grade.” No one’s expressions changed. “Seriously? I broke my finger because the ball hit it right as I was flipping off the ref.”

“Oh yeah,” Clyde said. He grinned. “That was pretty great.” 

“Right, we’re supposed to believe that this camp Michael is different than home-wrecker Michael, because Michael is _such_ a popular name,” Cartman said. He rolled his eyes. “Like there are a _million_ Michaels.” 

Craig stared at him. “Michael’s like the most popular boy’s name in the United States. There probably _are_ a million Michaels. At camp we had Michael, Mike, Mikey, and, uh, Mike C. Or maybe he was Mike B.” He turned towards Tweek, but Tweek wasn’t looking at anyone, still running agitated hands through his hair. “Tweek, tell them.”

Tweek jumped. His head shot up and he blinked owlishly. His face turned even redder, but he managed to stutter, “O-oh yeah, guys, it’s okay! T-this is a different Michael.” His voice turned stronger at the end as Craig met his eyes and sent 'please help me stop looking like a douchebag' vibes. Tweek even smiled, a quick, lopsided grin as he added, “It's really okay.”

Stan didn't look convinced. “You don’t have to take this, Tweek,” he said earnestly. “You deserve better. I was talking to Wendy, and she knows a boy at her cousin's school--”

“Are you seriously trying to set Tweek up with someone else? I'm right here!” Craig said, feeling stupidly offended, at the same time Tweek said, “Uh, thanks but no thanks, Stan. Craig and I are, uh, fine.”

“Hey, if we're getting Tweek a new boyfriend, he should date my pal Bradley! He's real nice,” Butters called from the crowd.

Craig glared. “Shut up, Butters!”

“Well,” Tweek said slowly, darting a quick glance in Craig's direction. Craig had a second to recognize Tweek’s rare sly smile before he said, “What, uh, do these guys look like? A-are they cuter than Craig?”

“God damn it,” Craig said before Stan or Butters could answer. “That's not funny.” Imagining Tweek pretending to be gay with someone else made his stomach felt weird, like maybe the pizza at lunch hadn't been cooked right or something.

“Well, I don't know.” Butters looked thoughtful. “He's good looking, I guess. He's got real poofy hair, you know? It’s nice.”

“Ugh.” Craig gave up on the stupid conversation and all his stupid classmates and stomped away. He got more irritated with every step, especially when he noticed some of the Asian girls whispering among themselves. He turned around just long enough to flip everyone off. “See you losers on Monday.”

“H-have fun with Michael!” Tweek called, giggling a little like he thought he was hilarious.

The last thing Craig heard before he turned the corner was Cartman saying, “I’ll kick his ass, Tweek. Want me to kick his ass?” and Butters piping up with, “Hey, Stan, if Tweek doesn't want to date Bradley, maybe Wendy's cousin's friend might!” 

“Jesus,” Craig said, stalking down the sidewalk. He pressed his hands to his stomach, trying to squash the weird feeling. He sighed at the sound of running feet, but didn't turn to look as Clyde skidded past him.

Grinning, Clyde started walking backwards so they were face to face. “Don't worry. Tweek won't leave you for some kid Stan found. Or even that Bradley guy.”

“Yeah,” Tweek said, and Craig jumped, because usually Tweek announced his presence with anxious muttering or stumbling into a mailbox. His elbow jostled Craig's as they fell into step together. He smiled, still looking pleased with his earlier joke. “You don't have to worry. I told everyone we were okay. You're s-stuck with me.”

“Too bad, because I hate you,” Craig said flatly. Still, maybe the pizza hadn't been bad after all, because his stomach settled as Tweek's hand brushed his, sweaty but familiar, their fingers lacing together like an old habit. His mouth betrayed him, smiling; he ignored Clyde's delighted grin.

Tweek tilted his head. “Want me to keep you updated on Zestiria?” 

Craig shrugged. “Sure, let me know when Sorey and Mikleo make out.”

“They're not going to make out,” Tweek said, laughing. This was his good laugh, the snorty, breathless giggle that made his entire face light up and his body shake with amusement. It made Craig feel better, listening to him.   

“I don't know, man, they seem pretty gay,” Clyde said. He suddenly brightened. “Hey, you two should dress up as them for Halloween!”

“Hell no. We're not _that_ gay, Clyde,” Craig said, uncomfortably aware that his words didn't carry much weight when Tweek was swinging their hands together. A second later he realized that he'd started to match Tweek's awkward pace so that Tweek wouldn't accidentally step on a crack and start freaking out about his mother. He frowned at the sidewalk.

Clyde stuck out his lower lip, trying for a puppy look. It was more effective than Craig was willing to admit, but not effective enough. “Come on, it'd be cute! If Token were here, he'd totally back me up on this.” 

“No.”

Clyde turned his look on Tweek.

“No way, Clyde, that's super lame,” Tweek said, blinking and flushing. “A-and imagine how hard the costumes would be to be! Man, that'd be like impossible and expensive, and oh god, way too much responsibility to get the costumes exactly right. What if we couldn’t find the right shade of blue? Or what if--”

Craig squeezed his hand, and Tweek’s increasingly agitated rant stopped mid-sentence. “We’re not doing it,” he said, and looked away from Tweek’s grateful smile. 

“Come on, you guys would win best costumes for sure,” Clyde whined, and Craig resigned himself to Clyde’s wheedling all the way to his house.   

 

* * *

 

Craig's phone buzzed in his backpack as he walked through his front door. When he fished it out, he saw it was a text from Michael saying he'd be there at 11 the next day and ending with a lame smiley face.

For a second Craig was almost happy. Michael was a pretty cool guy, laid-back and unlikely to get Craig arrested or kidnapped or dragged on a crazy adventure like other losers he could name. It would be a good, boring weekend. Plus, Michael didn't know about the whole yaoi thing, so Craig wouldn't even have to lie to him about Tweek.  

Then Craig remembered how everyone thought he was spending the weekend with his home-wrecking ex and his mood soured. Sometimes he hated this town. Then he thought about Butters and Stan offering to get Tweek a new boyfriend. Ugh, screw those guys.

“Craig, is something wrong?” his mom asked.

Craig blinked, realizing he was scowling at his phone. “This is just my face, Mom,” he muttered, and then walked as quickly as he could without actually running to his room.

Stripe was asleep, but when Craig opened the cage and scooped him out of his nest, he stirred and squeaked a sleepy hello. “Hey,” Craig said, stroking his fur and smiling a little as Stripe nibbled at his fingertips. He gave him a treat, figuring he owed him for waking him up. “Well, at least _you_ don't think I'm a cheating jerk.”

He heard a dull thump. When he turned, he realized that his phone had vibrated right off his nightstand and onto his bed. He carefully put Stripe back in his cage and then went to check his messages.

Tweek texted like he talked, with way too many exclamation points and question marks and usually ending in mid-thought when he accidentally hit send too soon. This text managed to be complete for once, inviting Craig and Michael over tomorrow.

Craig snorted, shaking his head, and texted back.

_like he wants to watch you die a dozen times, dude_

_hey, I kick ass at zealotry, craig_

_zesitria, gd autocorrect!!!!_

Craig snickered. He flopped down on his bed.

_so you aren't making the church of tweek? i'm a little disappointed you're not making a doomsday cult, like seriously, I am wearing my disappointed face rn_

_shut up_

_so disappointed_

_you're such an asshole!!!_

_says the dude who made everyone think I'm a cheating duck_

_duck?? quack, quack_

_shut up, maybe I should get butters to get ME a better bf_

_like you can do better_

“Son?”

Craig nearly threw his phone across the room. He stared up at his dad, feeling weirdly like he'd been caught at something. His face warmed. “Knock, Dad.”

“I did,” his dad said, frowning. “A couple times.” He hovered in the doorway, wearing a concerned look that was getting familiar. Since the whole Tweek thing had started, his dad had actually been trying to talk to him and be...well, an okay dad. It was sort of cool, but also a little weird. His dad cleared his throat. “Your mom said you looked upset earlier.”

“I'm fine,” Craig said.

“Did you get into another fight with Tweek?”

“No.” When his dad didn't move, Craig waved his phone. “We're fine! Some kids at school just pissed me off, that's all.” He saw his dad's expression change and resisted the urge to groan. He said flatly, “They weren't being stupid about me and Tweek. Everything is okay. Please go away.”

“Okay, Craig,” his dad said. He hesitated another second, like he wanted to say something else. Some of Craig's exasperation must have showed, though, because he just left, closing the door behind him. 

 _sorry, dad was being lame,_ Craig texted, settling against his pillows. _how long before you beat that game anyway?_

_another twenty hours, maybe??? I don't know, these camera angles suck hard, it's like the guys making it want me to die!!!!!_

_I think you need a couple more exclamation points there, dude_

_shut up, you're the worst bf_

Craig was still grinning at his phone when his door opened again. “Craig? It's time for dinner,” his mom said. She smiled. “Tell Tweek that you'll text him later.”

“I could've been talking to Token or Clyde,” he mumbled, frowning as he sat up. His mom wasn't as weird about him and Tweek as Tweek's parents were, thankfully, but she still embarrassed him by thinking the whole thing was adorable.

“Of course,” his mom said in a tone that meant she was humoring him. Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh. “Well, tell Tweek I said hi and that he should come over Sunday night. We’re having lasagna.” 

“Whatever,” Craig said, halfway done typing the invitation.

 

* * *

 

“Hey!” Michael said, smiling as Craig opened the door. He rolled his eyes as Craig squinted at him and said, “Did you actually shrink?” Michael had been the smallest kid at camp, but Craig had assumed he'd get a growth spurt or something. Apparently he'd been wrong.

“Bye, Michael!”

Michael turned. His smile turned to a huge dorky grin. From Skyping with him, Craig suspected that he actually _liked_ his family. It was a little gross. “Bye, Mom! Bye, Linda!” Both women -- one nearly as short as Michael, one super model tall, both with brown hair -- smiled and waved.

Craig had only met Michael's mom and aunt once before when they were picking up Michael from soccer camp, but he waved too. “Thanks for driving Michael here, ma’am.”

Linda smiled. “No problem, Craig. You two have fun. Alice and I will be at a movie, but just text us if you need us.”

“So what are we doing?” Michael asked, dropping his bag at his feet and staring curiously around Craig’s living room.

Craig realized he hadn't really thought about what they would do once Michael got there. He shrugged. “I don't know. We could play video games or eat or...” Running out of ideas, he shrugged again.

Michael laughed. “You know how to show a kid a good time, man.” He laughed harder when Craig flipped him off. “But seriously, I'm hungry. Is there any good food here? Your mom's not around to make lunch, right?”

“Yeah, she's at some...thing with my sister.” A thing she had told Craig about and Craig had instantly forgotten. He frowned. “Uh, most of the restaurants here suck, but the guy who owns City Wok is so desperate he'll give you food pretty much for free. We could go there. I'll pay.” He still had most of his money from PC Principal giving him fifty bucks after the fight with Tweek. 

“Okay,” Michael said. “Just let me throw my stuff in your room.”

When they got to City Wok, Kenny was there, sweeping the front steps. “Hey,” he mumbled, pausing to wave at them. 

“Hi, Kenny,” Craig said. Then he remembered yesterday, Kenny nodding in agreement as Stan scolded him about two-timing Tweek. His stomach twisted. Taking Michael out in public had been a bad idea. What if Kenny said something? The thought of explaining everything made him feel a little sick. “Uh, this is Michael. Camp Michael.”

“Camp Michael? Lame nickname,” Michael said, but stuck his hand out. “Hey, Kenny.”

Kenny mumbled something that could have been another greeting or could have been 'Don't be a cheating asshole, Craig.' It was hard to tell with that guy.

Craig took a deep breath of relief as Kenny shook Michael's hand and then stepped aside and let them go in. “Hey, Karen,” he said, spotting Kenny's little sister at one of the tables. She smiled, waving at them, and then went back to coloring on the back of what looked to be a City Wok menu. 

“I'm a little disappointed, man,” Michael said as they sat down with plates of steaming, vaguely appetizing food. “The way you talk about South Park, I thought it was going to be a lot weirder.”

Craig saw Kenny watching them through the window. “Just wait,” he said darkly. Then he shook his head. Maybe Tweek had convinced everyone that Michael wasn’t the made-up home-wrecker. Craig wasn't much of an optimist, but maybe this weekend could turn out okay after all. He took a sip of his soda. “So what's up?”

Michael grinned. He leaned across the table. “Actually, I've got news for once. Remember Hannah Grosser?”

“That chick you talk about all the time? No, doesn't ring a bell.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Her birthday is next week. She's having a party at the roller rink. Guess who happens to be the only boy she invited?”

“Since you're smiling instead of crying like a baby, I'm guessing you.” When Michael grinned and nodded, Craig raised his hand for a fist bump. “Good job, man. Though are we sure she doesn't just think you're a first grader who's in fifth grade by accident? This could be a pity invitation.”

“Go to hell,” Michael said, though he was still grinning. “I'd be an awesome boyfriend and you know it.”

Someone squeaked, the sound muffled but still loud. When Craig looked over, he realized one of the Asian girls was in the corner, staring at them with her hands covering her mouth. There was a sketchbook on her table.

“Shit,” he said, amusement turning to irritation. He stood so quickly that he almost knocked his drink over. He ignored Michael's confused look. “Be right back.”

“Go away,” he hissed at her as she shrank back against the cushions. “Go away and stop being such a stalker.” Then he actually looked at the sketchbook, which was open and face up. “Wait, what the hell?” The girl hadn't been drawing him and Tweek in another breakup scene like he'd assumed. Instead it was a half-finished picture of Michael smiling wistfully at Craig across the table, their hands almost touching. “What. The. Hell.”

“I like underdogs,” the girl said defensively. Now Craig recognized her as a girl named Soon-Bok, who’d moved to town earlier in the year from California. Or maybe it'd been Illinois. She squared her shoulders and pushed up her glasses. “Just because the other girls are obsessed with you and Tweek being together forever doesn't--”

“Stop talking,” Craig said. “And just...go away.” When she didn't move, he grabbed her sketchbook and threw it in the trash, ignoring her cry of dismay. “Go away.”

“Hey, kid, leave my customers alone!”

“I'm your customer too,” Craig said, scowling at Mr. Kim, but went back to his table.

Glaring daggers, Soon-Bok fished her sketchbook from the trash and left. She slammed the door so hard that Craig was surprised when the glass didn’t shatter.

“What was that about?” Michael asked curiously.

“Nothing,” Craig said, and then stuffed a forkful of noodles in his mouth before Michael could ask him anything else. He kept his mouth full for the rest of lunch. After a couple attempts to restart their conversation, Michael shrugged and gave up.

As soon as they finished eating, Craig stood. “Let's get out of here. Want to play soccer?”

“Sure, if you're done being weird,” Michael muttered. 

Craig pretended not to hear.  

 

* * *

 

Craig figured that being so small probably sucked a lot of the time, but when it came to playing soccer, it definitely gave Michael an advantage. He was too short for Craig to elbow, which, put together with Michael having a killer left foot and being fast as hell, meant that he was destroying Craig within fifteen minutes.

“Come on, dude, let me have a pity goal,” he said as Michael did his fourth victory lap around Craig’s yard.

“No way,” Michael said, grinning. He dribbled towards Craig. “But two more goals and I might start using my right foot.”

Craig flipped him off. “Just for that, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it,” Michael said. He faked left, but this time Craig didn’t fall for it, kicking the ball away.

It crashed against his fence and then dropped into the bushes, which snarled in a high-pitched, way too familiar voice, “God damn it, Craig!”

Michael stared. “…Is someone in your bushes?”

“Yeah, at least one dumbass, but probably with his dumbass friends,” Craig said. Anger grew in him slowly. He kicked the bushes, enjoying the yelps and curses this produced, and then glared as Cartman, Stan, and Kyle scrambled into the open. Leaves and twigs stuck to their clothes and hair. They were all nursing their arms where Craig’s kicks had landed, except for Cartman, who was cradling a camera.

“What are you guys doing in my bushes,” Craig said flatly.

Kyle and Stan looked a little embarrassed, but Cartman sneered. “Uh, what do you think?” He waved the camera in Craig’s face. “We were waiting for you to screw up with Michael so we could blackmail you.”

“Blackmail? I don’t think Craig’s that ashamed of getting his ass kicked,” Michael said. His wide-eyed look suggested that he was beginning to see what Craig had meant by South Park being weird.

“Shut up, home-wrecker,” Cartman snapped.

Michael laughed, disbelieving, until he looked at Craig. Then he stared. “Uh, wait, what?”

Craig gritted his teeth. Why had he thought he could have a normal weekend? South Park would always be South Park, and his weird classmates would always be his weird classmates. “Ignore Cartman. He’s a dick.” When Cartman opened his mouth, Craig added in a warning monotone, “A dick who’s about to have a broken camera if he doesn’t shut up.”

“Sorry, Craig,” Kyle said, actually looking like he meant it. “Clyde--”

“Clyde?!” Craig stared, startled at this unexpected betrayal.

“Yeah, Clyde just asked us to keep an eye on you. The blackmail was Cartman’s idea.”

“And you two just went along with it, of course,” Craig said flatly, and Stan and Kyle shrugged. He wasn’t really surprised. He clenched his fists, trying to calm down. He didn’t succeed, still queasy with anger. “Where’s Clyde?”

Cartman sneered. “At Token’s house, watching Tweek play his gay game before they start the even gayer Star Wars marathon.”

“Okay,” Craig said. He took a breath. “Okay.”

“Uh, do I get an explanation?” Michael asked.

“Like you don’t know,” Cartman said, and then yelped in outrage as Craig knocked the camera out of his hands. “The fuck? That’s my mom’s camera! If you broke it, you're buying me another one!”

Craig ignored him. Instead he looked at Michael, who was gawking at them all like they were speaking another language. "Look, Michael." He stopped, not sure what to say. He frowned when Michael stared at him expectantly, feeling even queasier than before. "It's kind of a long story. Just...stay here while I talk to someone?"

“No way,” Michael said. He folded his arms against his chest. Craig knew that glint in his eyes. It was the one he'd worn when another kid had laughed at his height at camp and Michael had been determined to kick his ass during the scrimmage. “You really think I'm just going to hang out with Stripe when there are weird kids trying to _blackmail_ you? I am totally coming along.”

Craig's last hope of having this be a boring, normal weekend died. “Fine,” he muttered, kicking at the grass. “Let's go.”

 

* * *

 

“Good afternoon, ma'am. We were looking for Clyde,” Craig said.

“Hello, Craig! Hello, boys. Clyde's with Token in his bedroom.” Mrs. Black smiled as she looked over the group. Stan, Kyle, and Cartman had followed Michael and Craig there, Cartman whining about his camera the entire walk even though it had turned out not to be broken after all. “Oh my, Token mentioned his little movie marathon, but he didn't say he'd invited so many boys over!” She tapped a finger against her cheek thoughtfully. “I'll have to tell the cook we need more mini-quiches.”

Craig shook his head. “Uh, we're not staying. I just need to ask Clyde something.”

“Well, if you change your mind,” Mrs. Black said cheerfully.

When they got to Token's room, Craig found that Clyde, Token, Butters, and Kevin were there, watching Tweek play Zestiria.

Clyde jumped up, guilt all over his face, but Tweek paused the game and grinned up from where he was sitting on the floor. At Tweek's welcoming smile, relief hit Craig like a punch to the stomach. At least Tweek hadn't been part of Clyde's stupid plan.

Tweek's grin widened, bright and pleased. “You came after all!” He peered curiously at Michael. “Hi. Michael, right?”

“Yeah. Hi,” Michael said, looking back with equal curiosity.

“Tweek, Michael. Michael, Tweek,” Craig muttered, waving a hand between them and watching from the corner of his eyes as Clyde looked around for an escape route, inching towards the bathroom door.

Michael's face lit up unexpectedly. “Oh, you're Tweek! Nice to have a face to the name. Craig talks about you a lot.”

About to drag Clyde away for a private talk and possible ass-kicking, Craig blinked. “What? I do not!” His protest came out louder than he'd meant, making nearly everyone jump.

“Uh, yeah, you do,” Michael said, giving him a weird look. "Like, all the time when we Skype. It's Tweek this, and Tweek that, and--" 

“So, wait, you _know_ about Tweek?” Clyde asked. Craig heard the dangerous wobble in his voice. “And you still....” He took one step forward, then another, his hands balled into fists.

Craig realized that Clyde was ready to fight Michael, who was staring at him in growing alarm and disbelief. He stepped between them as Token grabbed Clyde's arm. Craig sighed loudly. “Dude, seriously, _this isn't that Michael_. Look at Tweek. Is he mad?”

Clyde, blinking hard and sniffling, looked at Tweek, who mostly looked confused. “No,” he admitted.

“Can I get an explanation now?” Michael said. “Please?”

“Sorry,” Token said. At least he seemed to believe Craig now, because his smile was friendly and genuinely apologetic. Craig was so relieved that he didn't think to cut Token off before Token added, “We thought you were Craig's ex-boyfriend.”

“Craig's ex-boyfriend,” Michael said blankly.

Craig grimaced at the look Michael turned on him. “Look. That's. I.” Embarrassment burned his face. He scowled, tugging his hat lower and avoiding everyone's eyes as he mumbled, “My friends were being stupid.”

“Well, yeah, I'm not your ex. But why do they think I am? Are you gay?”

“No,” Craig snapped, and felt the entire room tense a second before a chorus of “Not cool, Craig!” filled the air. He started to glare at everyone and then met Tweek's eyes, which were wide with surprise and another emotion he couldn't figure out. He felt sick again, and trapped. He licked his lips. “I mean.... Sort of?”

“Everyone out,” Token said. No one moved. “Everyone who isn't Tweek and Craig, _get out of my room_.” His normally cheerful voice turned sharp.

That was enough to get most of the boys moving, even Butters, who said pointedly as he left, “Hey, Tweek, it turns out my pal Bradley actually has a boyfriend, I probably should've checked with him earlier, but I was talking with Stan and Wendy and this Paul guy sounds--”

“Butters, stop,” Token sighed, herding him out.

Only Cartman and Michael didn't budge, Michael staring at everyone like they'd gone crazy and Cartman snickering in delight and saying gleefully, “Good job, Craig. Now Tweek's going to dump you for good.”

“Shut up, dude,” Stan said. He and Kyle both grabbed Cartman's arms and dragged him protesting out the door.

“Uh,” Michael said, staring between Tweek and Craig. “I guess I'll, uh, be outside....” Then he retreated too.

Craig took a deep breath. He couldn't look at Tweek. “Sorry,” he said, fidgeting with his hat. “I wasn't really thinking. I'll tell Michael--”

“Craig,” Tweek said, and Craig stopped, because Tweek's voice sounded funny. When he looked up, Tweek's face looked funny too, sort of solemn. Tweek took a deep breath, twitched wildly, and then took another deep breath. “We can break up, okay?”

Craig stared. He tried to speak, but nothing came out except a strangled, “What?”

“We can break up,” Tweek said. He nodded to himself, quickly, his face scrunched up like he was thinking hard. “I mean, we were fake dating because it was the way to-- to fix things, right? So you'd be happy? But when you were trying to explain everything to Michael, you looked--” He stopped and fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, looking down. “You didn't look happy. Maybe things would be better if we broke up. W-we could say I like a guy online. Then we'd both be jerks. It would cancel out everything, right?”

“No,” Craig said. He should've been glad to hear Tweek suggest breaking up, but all he could feel was a panicky anger. He crouched in front of Tweek. He tried to sound like his chest didn't feel strange and tight, but even to his ears his voice sounded weird. “Dude, that's a terrible plan.”

Tweek blinked. His face scrunched up even more. “But if we break up--”

“If we break up, everyone will think it's because I'm a jerk. Again.”

“Oh.” Tweek looked alarmed. His hands twitched in his lap. “Oh man, I didn't even think of that! That would make things even worse. What if Wendy, like, got mad at you and tried to get you kicked out of school? Or--” He frowned worriedly, biting at his lip.

When Tweek twitched again, Craig was hit with the stupid urge to grab his hand. He resisted it. There wasn't anyone else around. There was no reason to act like boyfriends.

Tweek's anxious eyes met his. “So what should we do? I tried convincing everyone you weren't going to cheat on me, but I guess they didn't believe me.... And I don't want Wendy to kick you out of school!”

“Yeah,” Craig said, remembering Clyde's guilty look. He didn't want his best friends to keep thinking he was a cheating asshole. "I don't think Wendy will do that. Even if she tried, PC Principal wouldn't let her. But I definitely don't want people to think I'm a dick." He hesitated and then sat down next to Tweek. He kept his hands in his lap. He was quiet for a second, trying to think, though it was hard with Tweek fidgeting nervously beside him. Shrugging, he muttered finally, “The whole fake dating wasn't too bad, until this whole Michael thing.”

Tweek stared at him. It was one of those rare focused looks he got sometimes, when he wasn't twitching or panicking, but had all his attention narrowed to one person or thing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. 

Craig squirmed at that look. “I mean, holding hands is weird, but between all our parents and PC Principal giving us gay money, we can buy some pretty cool stuff.” He nodded at the TV, where Zesitria was still paused. He took a deep breath, because Tweek was still staring at him. “And if we keep dating, everyone will think I'm not a total dick. And I mean, hanging out with you a lot isn't awful. Right?”

“Yeah,” Tweek said. Now he started to smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled. He leaned back against the bed, his leg nudging against Craig's. He laughed softly. “I mean, still dating makes sense. If you were a total dick, I'd dump you, so you can't be one. If I wanted, I could date Wendy's cousin's friend.”

Craig rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the weird relief that made him feel a little dizzy. He bumped Tweek with his shoulder hard enough that Tweek made a surprised little snort. “Jesus, if I have to hear about that guy one more time, I'm going to find him and personally flip him off,” he muttered, and grinned when Tweek snickered.

The door opened. Token poked his head inside. He peered at them, curious and concerned. “Did you guys make up?”

“Did you guys make out?” someone else asked.

Craig flipped off the doorway and deadpanned, “Yeah, yeah, we had a whole heart to heart. Come in.” Some of his old stomachache returned as Michael came into the room, frowning.

Michael stood in front of him, his arms crossed. “Why didn't you tell me you're gay?”

Everyone was looking at Craig again. This time it wasn't so bad, though, not with Tweek sitting next to him, their elbows resting against each other and Tweek still smiling. He shrugged, settling for something that was half-true. “I just didn't want you to think of me as the gay kid, I guess. I get enough of that from, like, everyone in town.”

Weirdly, Michael looked even more confused. “Why would I think of you as the gay kid?”

Craig stared at him and then grabbed Tweek's hand, waving it in the air as Tweek squeaked in surprise. “Um, I'm dating a boy, dude.”

He dropped Tweek's hand when Michael said slowly, “I know. Token told me about it. Makes sense; you were being weirdly happy for, well, you, the last time we Skyped." Craig flushed, opening his mouth to deny this and get the matching grins off Clyde and Token's faces, but Michael kept talking. "But why would I think of you as a gay kid? Mom and Linda would kick my ass.”

“Uh,” Craig said, confused, and Michael's eyes narrowed.

“Craig, who do you think Linda is?”

“Your aunt?” Craig said, knowing it was the wrong answer as soon as he said it.

Michael rolled his eyes and groaned so loudly that Tweek jumped and hissed out a startled curse. “Craig, dude, Linda married my mom like four years ago. They'd been dating since I was two. How do you not know that? I told everyone during our introduction at camp!”

"Oh," said Craig. Looking back over the past few years, he admitted that made a lot more sense than just thinking Michael was weird and leaving the 'aunt' off of Aunt Linda. Linda had been in the background of Michael's Skype calls a lot. And she was pretty touchy-feely with Michael's mom. Craig shrugged a little sheepishly. “I wasn't paying attention during the introductions. I wanted to be home playing video games. Plus, I didn't think I'd see any of you again.”

“Wait, wait, wait, you have gay moms?” Cartman said. He leered at Michael. “Wow, that's so hot. I'll pay you five bucks to--”

For as long as Craig had known him, Michael had always been laid-back. He got fired up during games, but Craig had never seen him actually mad. Apparently to see that, someone had to be gross about his mom and Linda. Michael's face reddened. “Don't talk about my moms!” He launched himself at Cartman, and the air was filled with high-pitched shrieking and sobbing as Cartman was chased around the room, trying in vain to dodge Michael's fists and kicks.

"Jesus Christ, Craig, get your midget daywalker friend away from me! Ah, Christ!" 

“Sorry,” Clyde said, smiling uncertainly at Craig as Cartman kept wailing. “I was just worried. I don't know what I'd do if you and Tweek broke up again! You guys are so--” Craig didn't find out what they were, though, because Clyde got choked up, blinking away tears.

Token sighed. Patting Clyde's arm, he looked at Craig and Tweek. His smile was small but sincere. “Clyde and I just want you guys to be happy, okay?”

“We are,” Craig said, and surprised himself with how true the words felt. Weirdness aside, he liked hanging out with Tweek. He felt Tweek's hand slip into his, and grinned sideways at him. For a second he just sat there, holding Tweek's hand, not moving except for the occasional shift as Tweek twitched and bumped against him. Then he raised his voice. "So, who wants to start that movie marathon?"

"I've got a better movie," Stan said, and held up Cartman's camera, which he'd stolen and was using to film Cartman's ass-kicking. 

Craig snickered. "Yeah, we should watch that. And then watch the movies." 

Finally Michael got tired of chasing Cartman and threw himself down on the other side of Craig. He wasn't even breathing hard. His grin reached from one ear to another, and he looked pleased with himself. 

Cartman sniffled, nursing a black eye, and said, "Screw you guys, I'm going home."

"Have some mini-quiches on your way out, dear," said Mrs. Black, appearing at the door as though she hadn't heard any of Cartman's high-pitched screaming. She had a plate of food, and smiled as Token groaned, "Mom, I told you to order _pizza_. Can we please eat something normal?"

"All right, Token. I'll see if the cook can make some pizza," Mrs. Black said, unperturbed as Cartman grabbed an armful of mini-quiches and stomped out of the room, leaving his camera behind.

"And no weird toppings," Token pleaded as she left, and sighed as Kevin laughed and said, "Man, remember when she got us pizza with caviar on it?"

"Yeah, and the other time there were truffles," Clyde said, making a face. "That was awful."

"No way, fellas, remember when Token had his Christmas party and we got pizza with reindeer meat on it?" Butters said. "That was way worse." He shuddered a little at the memory.

Clyde's expression crumpled as he whimpered, "Oh no. I forgot about that. Poor Rudolph...."

"Hey, man, I'm sure it wasn't actually Rudolph," Michael said, looking a little alarmed by Clyde's sniffling. 

"Guys, we're getting normal pizza this time. I swear," Token said, and then rushed after his mom, calling, "Mom! Mom! Normal toppings like pepperoni and extra cheese!"

Craig was still holding Tweek's hand. It was a little warm and sweaty, just like always, but Craig didn't mind. A second later, Tweek's head settled against Craig's arm; Craig felt his stifled giggle as he asked, "So how's Zestiria going? Have Sorey and Mikleo made out yet?"

"Shut up, you jerk," Tweek muttered against his shoulder. His voice betrayed his smile. "They're not going to make out."

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell Token about my idea!" Clyde said, wiping at his eyes. He brightened. He ran out of the bedroom, yelling, "Token! You've got to convince Craig and Tweek to dress up as Tweek's Tales guys for Halloween! It's going to be cute! Token!"

Tweek's entire body shook with laughter, turning into his snorty giggles as Craig grinned. When he met Michael's eyes over Tweek's head, Michael grinned and gave him a thumb's up, saying, "Glad you're happy, dude."

"Yeah," Craig said. He relaxed against the bed, resting Tweek's hand against their knees. Soon no one was paying them any attention, everyone focused on helping Kyle set up the video so they could watch Michael kicking Cartman's ass again, but Craig didn't let go. He had to keep up the act, after all, and it was nice, Tweek warm and heavy against him. Nice and comfortable. 

It was going to be a good weekend after all.    


End file.
